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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24519157">a better tuesday</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/pseuds/Ashling'>Ashling</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Never Have I Ever (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Magic, Friendship, Gen, Pets, Post-Canon, Triple Drabble</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:15:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24519157</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/pseuds/Ashling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nalini's sulk is interrupted.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nalini Vishwakumar &amp; Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Original Characters &amp; Original Works Flash Exchange May 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a better tuesday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/gifts">gloss</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nalini has never been big on crying, but she does have a tendency to gaze out over beautiful vistas with the pensive darkeyed look of a sailor’s widow at the seashore. And this is the Poisonous Conservatory of the San Francisco Institute of Magic on morning after Devi told her, in no uncertain terms, that she should NOT come back until midterm break at least. So a bit of gravity is suitable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be significantly easier to wallow in her mood if there was not a small dragon, with the shape of a wiener dog and the coloring of a glitter piñata mid-explosion, snuffling around her ankles. Nalini is not the sort to make a fuss about an off-leash pet, but really, people should have the decency to at least train their animals to stay away from her. She looks down at it and gives it a glance of extreme disdain, to which it cocks its head and nips at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow,” she says, moving away, but it didn’t actually bite her leg, just her jeans, and now it’s pulling her towards one of the conservatory paths, or at least trying to. The thing weighs less than ten pounds and has no leverage to speak of. At first, Nalini is, in the pettiest way, pleased that it can’t budge her—this is one thing, at least, that she has unquestionable say in—but then its dogged stubbornness takes on a rather endearing and somewhat familiar quality. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” she says, and begins walking. After the first two steps, the little thing lets go and trots ahead of her at a rather surprising pace. She has to lengthen her stride to keep up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deeper into the conservatory, the forest thickens with vines and begins to take on quite a jungly feel that Nalini, a city girl down to the ground, does not enjoy. She’s tempted to go home, but then, home is very empty, with Kamala gone on some sort of irresponsible tropical vacation with her arranged not-husband, and the dragon is at least in good spirits, pausing here or there to snap at a butterfly or gambol in the undergrowth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The path ends in a small cottage, which is not a good sign. There is a plaque on the door, in bronze, which proclaims the cottage to be a part of some witch fellowship, with a long story of blah blah blah. Nalini skips the history lesson in favor for the business card taped to one corner of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>PROFESSOR LEUNG.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>OFFICE HOURS NEVER.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>THIRD DEGREE TEA SPECIALIST &amp; SILVER GRADE STONE COLD BITCH.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swings open to reveal someone who can only be the professor. She looks roughly nine hundred years old, with dyed black hair in a puffy sort of fashion and a taupe sleeveless dress revealing two arms very marked with burn scars. She has bright red reading glasses on the tip of her nose. She does not look pleased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s an emotional support dragon,” the Professor says, as if that’s an explanation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what that means.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have been told I have emotions and they need support.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.” Now would be a good time for Nalini to excuse herself and go home, except that cooking for one person means either a horrible amount of leftovers or the disgrace of microwaving a TV dinner. “What emotions do you have?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anger, mostly. Are you vegetarian?” the woman says brusquely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky you. Mondays are for bacon sandwiches. But Tuesdays are for tofu. Come in, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is the poison conservatory. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m not hungry,” Nalini says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All sad people are hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you are.” The woman points one bony finger at the dragon, which is for some reason rolling in a wobbly circle around the small clearing. “He only brings home the sad ones. It’s the training.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is nothing Nalini can say to that, not really. And the smell coming through the little door promises savory delights, and her feet and arms are tired from helping Devi unpack. So she goes in, and eats what she’s given. It's so different from all the "get togethers" she's had with other suburban mothers; the professor has nothing to say except the occasional non sequitur about an unintelligent colleague or a new crossbreed, and she seems fine with it. For her part, Nalini surrenders to the strangeness of the day and matches that energy, complaining about Devi’s ultimatum and detailing her plans to expand her own garden. But mostly it’s oddly companionable silence, and a large amount of rice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they’re done, Nalini finds herself being kicked out in favor of grading papers. If anyone else kicked her out of their house so quickly after a meal, she would bee offended, but with this woman, she’s not offended in the least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fridays are also vegetarian,” says Professor Leung. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had a lovely time,” Nalini says, and means it. “But I can’t impose on your hospitality much longer. I’m sure you’ve done your duty by the emotional support dragon at this point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have,” she says. “Come anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll check my schedule.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be coy.” There’s a stormy look growing on the wizened face. “Just say no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll bring Girl Scout Cookies,” Nalini finds herself saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Samoas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Thin Mints.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The good kind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Unexpectedly, the two of them smile at the exact same moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” says the woman gruffly, and then the door closes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nalini goes to sleep with a full belly and far less nightmares about Devi blowing up the university than she thought she’d have.</span>
</p>
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